


A Questionably Decent Proposal

by joufancyhuh



Series: To Know A Vael [11]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, Hints of a future/past relationship between them, Humor, Mage Hawke - Freeform, One Shot, Quite possibly a crack fic, Set during Act 2, This has some of my favorite headcanons, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25459543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh
Summary: Is it a Get-Rich-Quick scheme? Perhaps. But that won't stop Hawke from asking Sebastian to play the starring role.
Relationships: Female Hawke & Sebastian Vael
Series: To Know A Vael [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/899037
Comments: 8
Kudos: 6
Collections: Tangled Origins





	A Questionably Decent Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a joke between friends, an admiration of Sebastian's voice. And I went, "I'll write it! It'll be short." *facepalm* I should know better by now. 
> 
> I have Struggled with this fic, which was just supposed to be funny and short and a show of friendship. Instead, these Idiots tried their damndest to bring emotion into it and fight each other. Special thanks to my favorite reader-turned-beta, Kynlei, and all the friends I asked various input from. I literally could not have done this without you. I'm sorry for driving you crazy. If it's any consolation, I drove me crazy too. 
> 
> Maybe now, I can finally work on that damn chapter of Ashes to Ashes that's overdue.

The Chantry doors opened like an explosion. Kalea, heavy skirts gathered in both hands, managed to half-run, half-stumble toward the giant Andraste statue in the sanctuary. Several onlookers gawked at her poor attempt at sprinting, her target included, as he stood in the center of the room, tending to the red candles gathered around the base of the podium. 

“Bash.” His name came out more choked than shouted as she approached, corset squeezing the air from her lungs.

Sebastian's critical gaze assessed her unusual outfit. Damn her mother for throwing her into this overly elaborate dress with the Amell colors loud and proud and so much excess fabric that it felt like dragging a tent. Her clip-cloppy shoes balanced like stilts, her hair piled tall in intricate designs, and her face -- oh her face! Painted with so much makeup that it left a slimy, weighted sensation across her skin. She had to remind herself all afternoon not to touch, and almost failed several times. 

“Wow, you look … wow.” Sebastian rubbed at the back of his neck when his gaze faltered to land on Andraste, embers of heat glowing in the apples of his cheeks. 

“Yes, I know, amazing. Almost like I have breasts big enough for actual cleavage.” Her eyes rolled at the same time the skirts dropped from her grip. “I need to speak with you.”

“I was leaning more toward awkward,” he mumbled, hand dropping back to his side as he shifted his weight, eyes returning to meet hers. A shared discomfort flickered between them, the ghost of it trailing goosebumps along her exposed chest as something of a dim smile etched itself on his lips as he tried and failed repeatedly not to stare. “I assume your mother’s involved?”

“Wreaking havoc on my wardrobe, as is clear.” Her skirts flounced to emphasize her displeasure. Not wanting to veer too off-topic and into the headache of Leandra, Kalea paused for a few seconds to draw in a deep breath -- well, as deep as she could manage in that corset -- then continued with her original mission. “You’re not doing anything important, are you? Can I steal you away?”

He glanced down at the candles, the wick-trimmer still in his hand, then sighed. “Are you certain you don’t wish to go home and change first?”

The idea appealed greatly to her, but she knew better than to show her face around the Estate. “If my mother spots me, I won’t be able to make a break for it until after sundown, between the pestering for details and given how long it took me to get into this monstrosity …”

“It’s always easier to remove,” Sebastian muttered with a sly smile, a memory or several glazing over his eyes before he snapped back to the present, the red of his face now matching the intensity of the candles at his feet. 

Kalea bit into the corner of her bottom lip in a poor attempt to hide her grin. He couldn’t help himself sometimes, and it amused her to no end when she witnessed it. “So is that a yes, or … ?”

“Aye, the gardens then. We can hold a private discussion there.” He bent to set down the tool in his hand, then began to lead her out. 

When she stumbled in the first corridor, her skirts ending up underfoot, he offered a hand, which she readily took. “Maybe if your mother saw how you carried yourself, she’d rethink dressing you this way,” he teased. 

Her focus on staying upright stretched in his direction as she caught a strong whiff of the amber sandalwood incense that burned in the sanctuary, the fragrance now originating from his direction. The smell triggered the clench of her fists, an involuntary reflex whenever she entered the Chantry, forgetting that he still held it. His hand, so much larger than hers, warm and calloused even through her lacy glove, squeezed back in response, leaving her a bit flustered. Intimacy with strangers in the back of The Hanged Man paled in comparison to the intimacy of such a simple touch of this hand. 

The fresh air and sweet mixture of flowers offered a reprieve upon entry to the courtyard, and she searched out the honeysuckle vines growing along the brick walls nearby. Maybe she’d pinch off a few when Sebastian wasn’t looking -- was it a sin to pick flowers in the Chantry garden? And did she really care if it was?

While she disliked nearly everything about the Chantry and what it stood for, the gardens never failed in bringing her delight. A vivid mixture of multicolored flowers lined the stone path to the ivy-covered white gazebo, tucked away in a corner of this deceptively large courtyard. After assisting her up the single stair, Sebastian offered her a seat on the bench, but she shook her head. Her corset dug hard enough into her ribcage while standing -- sitting might actually break a few. 

And how would she then explain to him this notion of hers? Madness, perhaps -- he’d never outright agree to it, but listening to a room full of similarly dolled-up horny nobles speak about her friend inspired the best of ideas. It wasn’t considered exploitation if he said yes, right? 

“What can I do for you today, Kalea?” Sebastian elected to stand, though his eyes traveled the length of the bench in hesitation to meet her gaze. “You seem … excited.” 

“Hear me out,” she said, but he quickly let out a groan, not giving her the chance to continue.

“Nothing good ever comes from those words,” he said, shaking his head and taking a seat after all. His arms crossed over his chest before he pinched the bridge of his nose in anticipatory exaggeration. 

“Not usually,” she agreed, “but this idea is a great one, I swear.” 

“Like when you convinced Merrill to let you cut her hair?”

“Hey, once it grew out a bit, it looked great!”

“Or when you decided to surprise Fenris with a house cat?”

In her defense, the goal of ridding Fenris’ mansion of mice met with success. “How was I supposed to know he was allergic? Though that does explain why being around Anders always makes him sneeze ... “ 

“Or -” 

“Okay, okay.” She held up both hands in front of her to shield herself from this tirade of past regrets. “I think we get it. Not all of my ideas pan out, but this is one of the better ones, I swear.” 

Sebastian leaned back against the gazebo railing, arms locked across his chest. “Let’s have it then. What’s this grand idea of yours?” Nothing about his posture said he was open to the possibilities, but she forged ahead anyway, as was her way. 

“How would you like the opportunity to make some coin?” 

“I don’t like where this is headed …” 

“Listen.” She did her best to lower herself to his eye level, which included bracing an arm alongside his head and leaning over, giving him an unintended chance to look entirely down her dress. To his credit, he resisted so much as a peek, though his lips pinched tighter together, his gaze more fixated on her face than anywhere else. “You have a nice voice.” 

The reply came with an involuntary snort and a smirk saying he knew. “Thank you?” 

“Did you happen to know that several nobles at that stuffy tea party I recently attended only come to Chantry services in order to hear you recite the Chant?” 

“I am quite aware of the effect I have on others.” No opening yet, but she saw a spark of curiosity in his eyes, along with a glimpse of something very un-priest-like. Were she anyone else, that look might cause a swoon -- even so, her tongue flicked out to dampen her suddenly dry lips, tasting of beeswax from her lipstick.

Yes, this plan would work very well. “So I was thinking ... what if we capitalized on this?” 

“Excuse me?” A mixture of wariness and surprise flickered across those piercing blue eyes of his, smirk falling enough to leave his mouth slightly agape. 

“Supply and demand,” she said after a long pause, reflecting on how one stray piece of hair broke free to hang down the side of his face and how nice his natural hair looked when he let it go --  _ maybe the customers would pay more to see that _ . 

“You want me … to recite the Chant … at tea parties?” 

“Close.” She straightened up, smoothing out her skirts and attempting to angle her corset, forever seeking that elusive comfort. “More reading aloud poems and stories. Nothing forbids you from using your Maker-given talent like this, right?” 

“No, but …” His lips snapped shut, unease passing like a shadow in his gaze. “What do  _ I _ get out of it?” 

“My eternal gratitude?” When his expression didn’t change, she threw in a quick, “And coin, obviously.” 

An eye-roll accompanied his response. “My vow of poverty interferes with that part of your proposal a wee bit.”

At least she knew how to circumvent this vow. “Is this where I'm supposed to act like I don’t know about your  _ secret project _ ?” Waiting for him to cock his head to the side in confusion, she lowered her voice and murmured, “Curious how Anders receives the mystery donations to his clinic on the day after our excursions, and in the exact amount I happen to give you.” When embarrassment crept into Sebastian’s cheeks, a smile bloomed on her lips. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan to tell anyone, especially Anders. I know how he gets when you’re involved -- Children, the both of you.”

“Him, not me,” he quickly added.

“Agree to disagree on that one.”

“And you,” Sebastian asked, uncrossing his arms and angling himself towards her, eager for a change in subject. “What’s in it for you?”

“I can never say no to more coin. Haven’t you figured that out by now?” The chance to flaunt her friendship with the object of their desire came as an added bonus, but Sebastian might not take kindly to being used in such a way if he knew the truth. Then again, he hated nobility as much as she did, if not more, and if she explained to him the degrading remarks she endured all afternoon about herself and her family, he would probably sympathize with her cause. 

“Plus,” she added, only because it rang true, “having you there might make these things somewhat bearable.”

The honesty of her words shocked him enough for any lingering tension to trickle out. A light blush accompanied the small smile he aimed at her feet. “That’s …” His voice trailed off as he gazed back up at her, the vibrant blue of his eyes shining bright enough to rival the sun. It occurred to her that no one ever suggested such a thing to him before. 

Heat exploded in her cheeks, the sound of her pulse hammering in her ears as accompaniment. Not wanting for him to find the end of that sentence and make it even more awkward, she gave single clap, but not before turning her focus to right above his head. “Of course, the priest robes are a bit of a buzzkill. I can dig through the clothes Carver left behind -”

“I haven’t agreed yet, Kalea.” But the amused grin on his face said otherwise. “And I thought this was about my voice?” His eyebrow rose, but the slight smirk gave away his game. He knew exactly what she implied.

“I thought you might want to try and fit in at least a little,” she teased. 

“And you thought of your brother’s clothes? With the sleeves ripped off on every shirt he owned?”

While showing off the muscles in Sebastian’s arms appealed to her, she recognized his point but did so with a pout. “Fine. What about something a little low-cut?”

“Kalea.” His brow furrowed as the smirk fell off his lips. “You’re making me feel like I might regret this.” 

“Only trying to think ahead,” she responded with a smile. “So is that a yes?”

Maybe it was the hope in her voice or the pleading in her eyes, but he gave a long, drawn-out sigh and rose to his feet. “I’ll commit to one, and we’ll see how it goes from there.” His arm extended in her direction. “Can I walk you home?”

“Ah, but then you’ll be a witness my petty thievery of those honeysuckles by the entrance.” She clasped his arm anyway and he began to lead them out. 

He waited until they neared the vines before responding with, “Witness? Don’t you mean accomplice?” His free hand reached over and plucked a few of the pale flowers. With a mischievous grin, he tucked them into her open palm and folded her hand around them.

Her eyes widened, her mouth forming an open smile in shock. “But isn’t this considered sacrilege?”

“Why would the Maker create these flowers if not to be enjoyed?” The wink shrouded some of the sincerity in his voice, but the words served as a reminder to his new role -- in his life and in her own.  _ Friends _ . Her hand fell from his arm and into his hand, fingers lacing through one another. 

Later, after her mother’s berating, when finally out of that dreadful dress, she gingerly picked up one of the pilfered honeysuckles off the top of her dresser and pinched off the green bulb at the end of the stem. The flower held to her lips, she sipped at the honey while thinking fondly of him, her fingertips yellow with pollen. 

**Author's Note:**

> Some of my favorite headcanons:  
> -Carver cutting the sleeves off every shirt he owns. Possibly something he repeats in the Grey Wardens. A friend ended up making a comic about it on Tumblr.  
> -Sebastian secretly helps Anders fund his clinic.  
> -Apparently Fenris is allergic to cats now. Oops. 
> 
> Honeysuckles are super yummy <3 And the corset isn't that tight, Kalea is just dramatic. 
> 
> Alternate title, according to Fox: "What's a Little Sacrilege Between Friends". Sebastian did not approve of this title. 
> 
> Thank you for any comments! They make my day :)


End file.
